


It Carries Me

by rays__helll



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Its bullshit that Cullen is straight honestly, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rays__helll/pseuds/rays__helll
Summary: Herald of Andraste.It doesn’t matter how many times he was addressed as such, it still leaves Vin feeling out of place. The words don’t leave his own tongue well, their weight heavy. Hearing them uttered from others, it was foreign. He questions his belief in the Maker anyway, yet the Inquisition chose to grant him the title of herald. As if he, a Dalish mercenary, deserved such a title. It was only months ago that he was held prisoner by the same Inquisition that now sees him as a last hope. Haven provides him some comfort at least. Vin likes its seclusion, although he can’t bring himself to call it home. It has been long since Vin had anywhere to claim as such.---Vin, freshly deemed Inquisitor, has a huge gay crush on Cullen, he complains about it to his bff Cassandra hah.





	It Carries Me

**Author's Note:**

> I had this song on loop for like, the entirety of writing this fic, and it's inspired a lot of the tone of Vin's character:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmlhCC2VAXo

“Herald, excuse me-”

 

_ Herald of Andraste. _

It doesn’t matter how many times he was addressed as such, it still leaves Vin feeling out of place. The words don’t leave his own tongue well, their weight heavy. Hearing them uttered from others, it was foreign. He questions his belief in the Maker anyway, yet the Inquisition chose to grant him the title of  _ herald _ . As if he, a Dalish mercenary, deserved such a title. It was only months ago that he was held prisoner by the same Inquisition that now sees him as a last hope. Haven provides him some comfort at least. Vin likes its seclusion, although he can’t bring himself to call it home. It has been long since Vin had anywhere to claim as such.

_ I’m not supposed to be here _ , he often thought to himself. He believed in the Inquisition’s ideals; holding order, doing good for the world, blah blah blah. But in himself? That was up for debate. Vin certainly didn't see himself as a hero.

Cassandra waits at the door to Vin’s quarters, a small room within the stronghold. It has the basic necessities: a cot, a bench for repairing weapons, and even a small fireplace. Vin is preoccupying himself with repairing the hilt of his blade, worn from closing rifts in the Hinterlands. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting you, Herald,” she says, her arms crossed. Vin sheaths a dagger and relaxes at the bench, relieved to see Cassandra. Although their introduction had a tense start, they had quickly grown to trust one another. Vin could go as far as to consider her a friend. A close one even.

“I have a name, you know,” he says with a smirk. 

She flusters for a moment, but regains her composure, her habits of formality slowly dying as their friendship builds. “Right, sorry. Vin. Cullen requests your presence at the war table. He’d like to speak with you alone — ” Cassandra pauses, noticing Vin’s cheeks involuntarily turning red.

It’s not like Vin hadn’t been smitten with Cullen since he joined the Inquisition. It’s not like Vin thought about him in the quiet hours of night when he couldn’t sleep, thoughts of how Cullen’s body might look beneath that ridiculous feathered coat, or how it might feel pressed against Vin’s own. 

“ _ Alone _ ?” Vin spits out, self-consciously. 

“Yes, it’s regarding the Templars,” Cassandra replies suspiciously, “Specifically, how you’d like to move forward now that they’ve forged their alliance with us. What else would it have been?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a stroll through the gardens, or a nice evening offing bandits before a night of drinking and stargazing. Some romantic bullshit,” Vin says sarcastically, while putting on his scouting jacket.  _ Of course it’s about the Templars _ , Vin thinks, mildly embarrassed. 

“You’re joking, right?” Cassandra laughs, caught off guard by Vin’s response. He takes pride in moments he can elicit a laugh from her. 

“Yes, Cassandra, of course I am,” Vin sighs. “Just a joke.” 

She shakes her head and smiles. “Of course. Goodbye, Vin.”

Once Cassandra leaves, Vin sighs and buries his face in his hands. He should know better than to fall for a man who only takes interest in women. 

 

***

 

The war table’s chairs are empty, and at the table the large maps of Orlais and Ferelden leave little space for anything else. Pins mark notable locations, and red chalk crosses through points where missions succeeded. 

The months had been long and arduous, and it was a position Vin never imagined he’d come to be part of.  He was  apprehensive about joining the Inquisition, and even more anxious about people putting their trust in him. Vin was used to his life as a mercenary. He’s of the Lavellan clan, but he tended to keep to himself, always traveling from town to town in search of work. That’s not to say he led a lonely life; he was charming enough, albeit snarky, and made acquaintances easily. But he rarely stayed anywhere long enough to grow attached to anyone. That is, until he became involved with the Inquisition. And being unfamiliar with the feeling of attachment, he had a hard time navigating it. 

Cullen leans against the frame of an open stained glass window, light from torches outside flickering across his face, the night air cool and dry. He doesn’t stir as Vin closes the door behind him, although he does acknowledge Vin’s presence. 

“Good evening, Herald,” he says with an air of formality. Vin smirks; he always found Cullen’s sincerity endearing. 

“I’ll say, any evening I don’t have an envy demon at my throat is a good one,” Vin says, hoping his lightheartedness will ease his own nerves. Cullen laughs, at least. He stands with Cullen at the window; he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the opportunity to be closer to him. “You asked to speak with me?”

Cullen shifts to face Vin. Dark circles hung under his eyes like he hasn’t slept well in days, surely due to the recent events at  Therinfal Redoubt. “I wanted to thank you, personally, for allying with the Templars. For trusting in me.”

Vin avoids eye contact. “You’ve never given me reason not to.” He leans stiffly against the windowsill, the bricks cold against the palms of his hands. 

“I know my past actions in the Templar Order have left some doubting my intentions. I wasn’t always... level-headed in my decisions. I hope through the Inquisition I can do better. It means a great deal to me to have your support.” Cullen sighs, fiddling with a silver coin for a moment before returning it to his pocket. 

Vin shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what he should say, but Cullen breaks the silence. “...The Breach, you’ll be able to close it, right?” he asks.

Vin rubs the vibrant green mark in the palm of his hand. It glows faintly like a dying ember. 

“I hope so. I mean, what other option do we have?”

Cullen stands closer to Vin and extends his hand to Vin’s. “May I?”

Vin hopes the dark of night masks his burning cheeks. Cullen’s fingertips are coarse against Vin’s palm, but he welcomes this small act of intimacy. 

“Does it hurt?” Cullen asks. 

“It’s rare that I’m not aware of its existence,” Vin says. “It stirs the closer I am to a rift, first like small pinpricks that grow to a burning feeling. But also splitting, like a wound being cauterized only to be torn open again.” 

“Even now?” 

“Well, it’s more like a dull ache right at the moment,” Vin says. Before thinking better of it, he adds, “Though your touch certainly makes it tolerable.” 

Cullen releases Vin’s hand and steps back, and Vin immediately regrets letting those words escape his mouth. He wonders what Cullen must think of him. Does he truly regard Vin as Andraste’s herald, or just a fool in over his head? 

 

_ I shouldn’t be here _ .

 

“I- I should go,” Vin stammers. He briskly walks toward the door to escape the tension he caused. As Vin reaches for the handle, Cullen interrupts his exit. 

“I admire your courage. What with the Breach, all of these demons... I don’t know what we would do without you.”

“Without the Anchor, you mean,” Vin replies, tightening his grip on the door’s handle.

“ _ You’re _ the one who chose to do good with it, though.”

Vin looks to him, wondering how Cullen could mistake him for a man of courage. He just let life carry him from one point to the next. If not for the mark, he’d still be wandering Thedas without ambition. Vin envied Cullen’s firm convictions, wishing that he could be as sure of his own beliefs. 

The door creaks and Vin looks over his shoulder to Cullen.

“Thank you, Commander. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Herald.”

 

Vin braces against the door for a moment to regain his composure, feeling foolish for wishing Cullen would refer to him by name rather than a title for which he felt unworthy.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended this to be multi-chapters, eventually resulting in Vin meeting Dorian and getting over his crush on Cullen after falling in love with Dor, but alas I am extremely lazy when it comes to writing fic and haven't come back to this fic since originally writing it in 2016. Maybe some day hah.


End file.
